


Stay here with me

by Liver_Transplant



Series: Supernatural stuff [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angsty Schmoop, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Dead John Winchester, Fluff, Halloween, Homophobic John Winchester, M/M, POV Dean Winchester, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 00:31:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21065777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liver_Transplant/pseuds/Liver_Transplant
Summary: Dean's alone for his first Halloween back in town, and we can't have that. Cue Castiel's reappearance after years apart, all to keep his old lover company. Angsty boys doing what they do best, being angsty. Plus cuddles.





	Stay here with me

**Author's Note:**

> My entry for Destiel.Fanfiction's latest halloween themed one-shot contest, based off of the third prompt. Also, my second ever fanfic, so that's pretty rad.

Dean Winchester has always liked Halloween. Why wouldn't he? You go out to a bar or a party, get smashed and bang a pretty chick. The candy was a plus. But that was before he’d ‘settled down’ (Sam’s words, not his). The days of traveling the open road, running from his problems had ended when Sam had said the words, “I’m going to be a father.” He’d been choked up when he heard and might have even shed a tear or two at the notion that the boy he’d raised was gonna have a kid of his own. Sam sounded so happy that when he asked Dean to stay and be an uncle, he couldn’t find it in himself to refuse, even if it meant facing all the things he’d been avoiding.

That was three months ago. Since then Dean had rented an apartment, got a job at his uncle Bobby’s scrapyard and was slowly opening up to his therapist. Things were looking up. Tonight was the first time in years he was in one place for Halloween, and alone as he might be, he was looking forward to it. Earlier that day Sam had called to inform him that they couldn't make it. He’d explained to the older Winchester that there was a last-minute meeting with a client yada yada yada. Dean had tuned most of it out, only paying enough attention to tell Sam it was alright, he was fine with being alone. Never mind that it was a lie.

At present Dean was leaned back in a ratty old recliner he’d got for twenty bucks at a yard sale, bag of skittles in hand. The first round or two of children had already passed by, but he expected at least one more. The TV played some old black and white horror flick, and the occasional flashing from the screen was the only illumination. He let himself zone out, somewhat enjoying the movie. After a while the doorbell woke him out of his stupor, reminding him of the holiday still going on. Dean groaned as he shifted, swinging his weight forward and standing slowly. He reached down and grabbed the candy bowl that he definitely hadn't started eating the contents of from where it resided beside the chair. The doorbell sounded again, along with a couple of miscellaneous knocks thrown in for good measure. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Dean huffed as he made his way to the door, candy bowl in hand. He shuffled over to the entryway, pausing momentarily to check the peephole before swinging the door open to a sea of eager trick-or-treaters that paraded about his front door. They let out a little cheer the second they noticed him, happy smiles all around. 

A small ghost upfront of the group held up his big pillowcase first, soft eyes hopeful as he led the slightly older children in the chant.

“Trick-or-treat!” Dean grinned at the children and made quick work of filling all the bags with goodies, taking extra care to drop and extra piece or two in the ghost’s sack. The boy's eyes lit up, and Dean was brought back to a memory he’d long forgotten about, back when Sam and he had celebrated the holiday for the first time. They’d snuck out of the motel they’d been residing in, pillowcases and cut up sheets their only costumes. Sam had a look on his face very similar to the child’s when they’d gotten to the first house. The night was more fun then they’d had in weeks and the mood was only dampened when Dean had brought them home. It figures, the one night they broke the rules was the one night John actually decided to come home. Dean had ushered Sam quickly their room, making sure all evidence of their night was eliminated, knowing there would be hell to pay. He wasn’t wrong, and when John emerged from his drunken stupor he could’ve been easily compared to the monsters he hunted. 

Dean shook the thoughts from his head, quickly returning the smile to his face. The children appeared to be counting quietly in unison before a loud, “Thank you, Happy Halloween!” was heard from all. Dean waved as they wandered off to go solicit the next person on their route. He continued to lean against the door, lost in thought when an eerily familiar voice broke through the din of his mind.

“I never understood the concept of modern-day Halloween. It seems pointless, why dress up in costumes to beg for candy when you can just buy some yourself?” The deep voice paused, “Were you aware that the word _Halloween_ dates to about 1745 and is of Christian origin? The word _Hallowe'en_ means _Saints __evening_ and comes from a Scottish term for _All Hallows' Eve, _and there is a quite a bit of speculation among scholars towards the origins of the holiday itself. I find the entire ordeal altogether fascinating.”

Dean slowly turned his head in the direction of the speaker, a slight smile gracing his face when he noticed who it belonged to. Castiel tilted his head, wearing his usual trench coat and hair akimbo where he stood, looking as if barely a day had gone by since they last met. Dean felt his heart speed up incrementally, a slight flush on his cheeks. The man was just as attractive as the day they met, all those years ago.

“And here I thought I would never see you again.” He replied softly, averting his eyes from the soul searching stare he knew was pointed his way. 

“That was through no fault of my own. You made it clear you didn’t want to see me anymore when you ran off.” Castiel sounded hurt at the memory, and Dean instantly sensed a rush of guilt flush through him. 

“We were young and stupid, Cas. I was scared.” How easily he slipped back into the nickname surprised Dean.

“I know,” Cas spoke simply. Then, as if predicting the taller man's next sentence, spoke, “Sam sent me. He didn't want you to be alone.”

Dean looked up again, finally meeting the gaze of his old friend, which appeared a great deal softer than he was expecting. His grateful feelings towards his brother only just barely outweighed his hesitancy to see Castiel again. He caved, resigning himself to his next words, knowing it had the potential to bring everything back up.

“Aren't you a little old to be trick-or-treating? The trench coat makes you look like a perv, by the way.” Cas glared, but Dean could tell he was amused, “Why don’t you come inside before someone calls the police.” He huffed dramatically, opening the door a little wider in offering. 

Cas strode over, only pausing momentarily to look Dean in the eye before leading the way indoors, his footsteps trailing into the living room. Dean closed the door, following suit as he walked to the largest room of his apartment. Cas was standing in the middle, looking out of place in the darkened space, shadows playing nicely off his defined cheekbones. Dean quickly chided his brain for the thought, but it did little to quell more musing, instead causing a chain effect that brought even more into fruition. 

Dean was again shaken from his train of thought when Cas cleared his throat, a deep and pleasing sound he’d long forgotten. He recovered a great deal slower than he would've liked to, but still had the right mind to remember what little manners he possessed, “Uh, feel free to take a seat anywhere.” Cas nodded, stumbling on the edge of the coffee table before stiffly taking his seat.

The Winchester mimicked the movements, soon finding himself sitting alongside Cas, candy bowl still in hand. He hastily set it down and turned towards the shorter man, only to find their faces in close proximity. 

“We should talk.” Dean gulped. 

If Castiel was surprised at his companion's impulsivity, he did not show it, “We need to talk about a great many things Dean, you’re going to have to specify.”

“When I bailed, I was in a bad place. I just..you knew John.” Dean’s breath hitched, “I never should've left. At the time I thought running from you was the best option, and now I know the opposite is true.” 

“It’s okay. I know.” Cas gently knocked their shoulders together, his deep cerulean eyes making contact with Dean’s, “This conversation is far from over, but I came here to keep you company, and I plan to do as such.” 

Dean nodded, slowly standing and walking over to the connected kitchen. He opened the fridge, leaning down to peer in, “What do you want to drink? No beer I’m afraid, but I’ve got this wild mango-cranberry shit that somehow tastes amazing.” He paused, thinking, “Oh and water.” 

“I’ll have the ‘wild mango-cranberry shit’ please.” Dean peeked over the edge of the fridge door just in time to catch the other man use actual air quotes. He chuckled quietly to himself as he retrieved the jug, filling up two glasses before putting it back. He brought both forward and set them on the coffee table, returning to the kitchen to grab an armful of snacks. He took that and put them next to the drinks, rushing back to his bedroom and grabbing a blanket off the bed, adding it to the growing pile on the table. 

“There we go.” He spoke triumphantly, seating himself back on the couch. 

Cas glanced at the wide array of things, head tilting to the side as he inquired, “What are we going to do Dean?”

Dean looked at him like he just asked who Ozzy Osbourne was, “Bad horror movie marathon, duh.”

“Ah.”

Dean grabbed the remote from under the snack mountain and switched the TV over to a Halloween channel, stopping on one playing original episodes of the twilight zone. Dean let loose a small smile before turning up the volume and leaning back. Cas did the same, and throughout the episodes, he continued to drift over into Dean’s space. The taller man stayed still for fear of stopping Cas or pushing him away, but by the time the fifth episode was coming to a close, he realized Castiel had fallen asleep. His breathing had evened out and his eyes were closed as he made soft little snoring noises. Dean felt his face flushed beet red and his heartbeat increased tenfold as he crept his hand out from under the blanket that covered them both, grabbed the remote and turned off the television. The room was silent save the snores emanating from the unruly flop of hair tickling his chin.

Cas remained in a state of unconsciousness, and Dean breathed a sigh of relief. He was reminded of years past, in that brief happy summer they shared, watching the stars and staying up late into the night wrapped up in the presence of each other. He sat there for hours, watching his old love dream, enjoying the brief closeness they shared before he too succumbed to drowsiness.

Yes, they would talk, but that was for another time. 

For now, they slept.

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly thought that two weeks was enough time to write this whole diddly-dang thing, then chill for the next week and a half before going back and leisurely editing it throughout. It did not at all end up that way. Turns out I'm actually a pretty busy person, and on top of that a severe procrastinator when it comes to deadlines.


End file.
